After two weeks in sunny Spain I’m back in cold and rainy Seattle. I like the weather here but I broke my commuter bike a week before my trip and my car is in a friend’s garage and not currently at my disposal. It is ironic that a fitness freak like myself, someone who thinks nothing of riding a bike 18 miles up a very steep mountain, someone who thinks that is fun, this same person balks at having to walk more than about two blocks. I walked my ass off while in Spain but in the 24 hours since touching down in Seattle I have taken about five fucking cab rides. What a big lazy turd I am.
I used to give a fellow cyclist friend of mine a lot of crap because instead of riding his bike to work he would take a cab. I used to tell him that taking a cab was pretty fruity and had he ever considered figure skating to work? I guess I don’t have anything against figure skating but if I had a kid and that kid was considering a life as a figure skater I would probably discreetly leave a bunch of pamphlets describing career opportunities in the crack whore field lying around his/her bedroom.
So all this means is that until I have some spare time to get my car, and then go replace my new commuter bike, I have only a few grim transportation options. I can ride my mountain bike around as transportation. Although this is a bike that I heap so much abuse upon during the mountain bike season, not thinking twice about riding it down a flight of stairs or totally trashing it on the muddy trails around Washington state, the idea of getting it dirty riding around town is fairly unthinkable. Forget about riding my racing bike for transportation. I would just as soon wipe up a grease spill in the kitchen with my best suit than get my Bianchi dirty just to get from point A to urban point B. That would be about as cruel as me asking a kindergarten kid to give me a piggyback ride around town.
Can someone please call me a cab?